I have never made an afghan. The amount of toiling away would send me away. So it pains me to find these works of art cast off at thrift stores. (Yes. Works of art. Sun streaming in on a colorful blanket draped across the back of a squishy couch, warm coffee in your favorite hand thrown mug, a nip in the air, a magazine you've been resisting until you could devote at least thirty minutes. Feel it? Work of art.) And so I buy them, usually for about three dollars. And I love them.